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"Boombot
deployed, Sarge," Trey's handler subvocalized into his bonejack. "Unit
transmission at…85% optimal." Nothing sounded like it used to, but from the
irreverent terminology, Trey figured Coop was the soldier reassigned her demo
duties. She hadn't known him so well, beyond an officer's familiarity with
those she led, but he'd always been the one to add some hint of humor to every
mission. By her reckoning, wisecracks were one more part of his armor, right
along with his ballistic mesh. She was finding it comforting, herself.
"Damn…we
need better than that, soldier," responded whoever had taken over as team
leader—Trey couldn't help feeling a bit smug that it had taken two men to
replace her…at least, until she recalled her new role was "Boombot, " and why.
"Adjust
your frequency; no one goes in until that 'bot is transmitting at 95% minimum. I'm not loosing any men to sloppiness."
The
implication wasn't lost on Trey. For the briefest instant she had the
overwhelming impulse to go "buggy" on the colossal shit. Let him see how
"optimal" he could be when things were out of his control and there was
pressure from the higher ups to achieve the mission directives now.
Hell,
he was the one nice and cozy at the fall-back position, while here she was completely
overthe front line. Of course, it
was so easy to forget she was only a passenger. Right up until Coop started
fiddling with the controller.
Talk
about weird. Trey could "feel" as he adjusted the packbot's settings,
maneuvering the unit around the crumbled remains of the building, manipulating
the camera angles. She heard him murmur about the darkness. It should have
served as a warning, but she totally didn't pick up on it. When he triggered
the variable-intensity LEDs she would have flinched, if she could have. The
sudden light had the intensity of a bomb blast without the fade away. She could
visualize her eyes snapping closed. And suddenly, they did. Or at least, there
was an abrupt return to total darkness. It was a coincidence, of course, but a
welcome one. Well. For her.
Coop
swore like a cross between a marine and a twenty-dollar whore.
A
flood of data transmitted to the 'bot. Then once again, supernova. Trey
reflexively "flinched" and was returned to total darkness. She was in awe as the
revelation dawned. Maybe passive observer wasn't her lot after all.
"Military-issue
piece of crap! We don't have time for this!"
There
was that guilt again. What was relief for her was just a dangerous complication
for the squad. But it did demonstrate that perhaps she had some control over
her fate. To test the theory, she triggered the circuits that brought the
lights up again independent of Coop's efforts, only gradually. Okay, enough
experimentation. She had some amount of control. That alone made her just a bit
more comfortable in her titanium skin.
Enough. She didn't want Coop scrapping the mission
because 'Boombot' was malfunctioning. She "stepped back," releasing control to
the handler.
It
was odd not having to go to any effort to do her job. She had finally reached
the state seasoned soldiers both dreamed of and dreaded: where a combat zone
didn't require active thought to evaluate. Of course, she'd had to die to
achieve it.
Always
a down side, wasn't there?
Between
her knowledge and the packbot's superfast processors, analysis of the building
interior was instantaneous. The moment the cameras panned across a zone all the
potential hot points were identified and assessed, simultaneously scrolling
across the unit's micro-display and the handler's monitor.
All
threats on the first floor were old activity, already neutralized. As the last
lower-level quadrant scan completed, Trey and the packbot approached the
staircase. A sensor extended from the 'bot until it connected with the first
riser. Next the unit emitted a subsonic peal, followed by a probe shooting out
from the front facing, forcefully punching up against the structure. Again,
data analysis was instantaneous. The sonic blast revealed nothing but the
standard staircase infrastructure. The impact test confirmed the architecture
was sound and was not rigged to blow or collapse. With the all-clear given, the
handler activated the 'bot's front flipper assembly. Trey was fascinated as the
flipper extended up and forward until the belted track grabbed the next tread.
She found the sensation odd as the servos engaged and the front of the unit was
raised up, followed the flippers up the steps. The monitors continually tracked
the stability of the structure as the process repeated, until the 'bot rested
soundly on the upper level.
There
was nothing there or in the rest of the surrounding buildings. Nothing recent,
anyway. Plenty of signs of neutralized ordinance, along with one or two that
had clearly been triggered, but by the levels of accumulated dust, signs of
animal habitation, the weathering…all indications were that the outpost had
been abandoned by all parties.
"Echo
sector has been cleared for occupation, sir," Coop reported over the comm to
his squad leader.
"Our
ETA is 0700," was the response. "Have your men set up base operations and then
stand down until we arrive."
Trey
wanted to protest as the 'bot's systems were again powered down and the 'bot
was returned to Coop's MOLLE pack. She noticed that once the rest of the system
was shut off and beyond her reach, her own power source was likewise reduced
until she was operating under what felt like brown-out conditions. Apparently,
she was in her own version of stand-by.
Part
of her railed against the restrictions; she was just getting the feel of her
new situation, the freedom and capabilities she had never dreamed would be open
to her. But then, the squad leader had no clue she was anything more than a
complex data dump. Having to admit that made her seethe. Not that she had a
right to. She'd signed on for this tour, after all.
As
the outside world went away, she perversely wondered if this was how her laptop
had felt each time she'd shut it down. And had it likewise amused itself in the
darkness plotting theoretical rebellion?
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